Why We’re Angry

Three hundred years of slavery, Three hundred years of being torn from our lands, our people, our language.
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Three hundred years of slavery,

Three hundred years of being torn

from our lands, our people, our language.

Three hundred years of crossing that chasm packed in the bottoms of your boats, lying in shit, sweat, tears and blood.

Three hundred years of being sold like cattle,

Our husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons being sold to the highest bidder.

Three hundred years of your whips, your chains, your coffles.

Tied like dogs to your land.

Three hundred years of being told we are nothing, less than nothing,

Being told we have no souls,

When it seemed clear to us who was really soulless.

Three hundred years of dividing us, dehumanising us, brainwashing us.

Three hundred years of despair, of no hope for our children, or our children’s children.

THREE HUNDRED DAMN YEARS!!!

And then you ask us why we’re angry.

You are confused by the rage in our eyes.

You play it down.

You tell us it’s all in the past,

Forget it.

FORGET IT??!!

You can’t seem to understand why we harp on it, won’t let it rest.

You want to know why we keep reminding you about it;

Why we insist on bringing up that nasty incident that pricks your conscience.

DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?!

We can’t forget it.

It is indelibly burnt into our brains.

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We can’t forget the nightmarish, unimaginable horror you put us through.

We are physically, emotionally, psychologically unable to forget.

We can never forget the blood, the pain, the sorrow of our foreparents.

Forget it?

If only we could!

Categories
Poetry
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